


Why You Don't Mess With An Angry Damara and A Grieving Horuss

by orphan_account



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-09
Updated: 2015-09-09
Packaged: 2018-04-19 20:42:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4760363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Idk I'm dumping all of my fics onto here<br/>Basically Damara and Horuss fuck up Rufioh's hive because he's a cheating shithead</p>
            </blockquote>





	Why You Don't Mess With An Angry Damara and A Grieving Horuss

A text. That winged motherfucker broke up with him over a text. His smile fades from his face as though it’d melted clean off, anger twisting his features as he loses control over his facade of a constant state of happiness. Then, sadness. Tears drip down his face as he looks down at the phone, the text on his phone blurring as pale blue obscures his vision. He throws the phone at his wall and lets loose a hoarse scream, the sound echoing throughout his nearly-empty hive as he sinks to his knees and wails, body shaking with how hard the sobs wrack throughout his frail frame.

She hears the scream. She thinks nothing of it as she continues on her merry way to her ex’s house. She can’t really care for how pained and anguished that scream had sounded, she’s too busy humming a happy little tune to herself as she looks over the materials in her sylladex. _Perfect, just enough to do job correct._ She thinks to herself as she walks up. Then, she rolls up her sleeves and gets started, utterly decimating the once-clean lawn and leaving broken, rotted eggs all over the windows and toilet paper hanging off of the bushes that had been cut and trimmed to perfection, now in the shapes of large bulges, albeit crudely-shaped ones.

Satisfied with the destruction she’d wreaked, she goes back to her hive, only to be stopped by Horuss, but this doesn’t look like the Horuss she’d grown so accustomed to seeing. No, this Horuss has blue-rimmed eyes, this Horuss has tear stains on his cheeks, this Horuss has pure fury in his bloodshot eyes as he nearly runs into her.

His eyes look up the road to Rufioh’s hive, then back to Damara’s face. She pales a bit. She’s never seen him like this, and she isn’t exactly the fighting type. She uses manipulation and passive-aggressive statements, she doesn’t do physical contact.

“...how dare you,” are his first words after he’s sobbed his eyes out for the past six hours.

“I-I, uh. I sorry? He no good, Horuss!” She says, trying to validate her actions. “A-Anyways, why you out here? You look like you crying,” she hurriedly adds on, trying to change the topic.

“No. I meant, how dare you do what I was going to do?” He’s frowning now, but the anger in his eyes isn’t directed at her, she realizes.

Then it hits her. “Fucker hurt you too?” When she gets a nod in response, she sighs and facepalms, understanding more than she’d ever want to be able to. She puts a gentle hand on his shoulder, smiling lightly in encouragement. “It get better, promise.”

Then her smile widens as she gets an idea, grinning almost maniacally now as she gets an idea. She still has her lighter, she has some lighter fluid because why the fuck would Damara Megido _not_ have said chemicals in her sylladex?

“I have idea.” She takes the lighter and the fluid out of her sylladex, holding them out proudly to Horuss. “Burn pretty boy hive down?”

His eyes widen at the very prospect of such an idea, then he grins as well, the expression somewhat weak and still watery as he takes a bag of marshmallows out of his sylladex. “Well, I was meaning to have a nice cuddle with Rufioh in front of the fireplace, what with how cold it’s been getting as of late, but I think I’d enjoy these better with you,” he says with a slight wink.

They grin at each other, sharp teeth glinting and perfect ones shining back as they splash the fluid everywhere, the stink of gasoline rising up in the air, but to them, it just smells of the sweetest satisfaction.

“Care to do honours?”

“With pleasure, Damara!” And then he takes the lighter, flicks his thumb against it, and throws the burning thing right onto Rufioh’s _“Welcome, doll!”_ custom doormat.

As the flames consume the perfectly-structured hive, Damara rips open the plastic bag with her teeth and they spear the ‘mallows through with some sharp sticks, roasting them and eating them, making jokes as they trade stories about Rufioh and how he’s not all everyone makes him out to be.


End file.
